


flying home

by winterbitch (WinterLadyy)



Series: revelations [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, Family Bonding, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Good Parent Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Married Couple, POV Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Parents Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Young Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23821783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterLadyy/pseuds/winterbitch
Summary: Ciri always knew that there are things people didn't want to tell her. Finding the charm only convinced her further, because now she dreams about blue eyes and white hair and when people tell her to find Geralt of Rivia, she knows that he must be connected to that. He and his bard.She expects guardians. What she gets are two awkward but loving parents, answers and a little bit of magic and feathers.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: revelations [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613374
Comments: 57
Kudos: 1632
Collections: Flap Flap Bitches, Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	flying home

**Author's Note:**

> i struggled with it a lot, as ciri is a child and i cannot write children but i think it's not terrible??? maybe

Ciri knows that there’s something no one is telling her. She can hear when conversations end whenever she gets closer, when her grandmother looks angry and fierce whenever someone mentions her mother’s betrothal banquet. Ciri may be youing but she’s far from stupid. Pauses in a conversation can speak volumes if one knows how to listen. **  
**

She tries to ask when she’s 5, old enough to understand that something is wrong. No one tells her anything but Mousesack has that sad look in his eyes and her mother looks both soft and terrified. Ciri doesn’t like making her parents worry so she stops asking.

That doesn’t mean she stops looking for answers. Whenever she dreams, there are blue eyes staring at her, crinkled in the corners as if the person is smiling. Sometimes, if she sleeps deep enough a flash of white hair and strong hands appears, and she always feels safe when it happens. 

Ciri wants answers desperately, especially when her parents leave and never come back. Her grandmother is grieving, and under that cold exterior Ciri sees sleepless nights and invisible tears. She finds herself curled in her bed often, staring into the wall and trying to recall those blue eyes and white hair. She wants to feel safe again, feel as if everything’s fine and she's not alone now.

One night, she goes into her parent’s chambers, driven by sadness, missing a warm embrace and soft words. Her grandmother loves her, Ciri knows that, but the Queen is no9t one for softness or kind understanding. She misses her mother.

It’s in her parent’s rooms that she finds the thing. Ciri isn’t sure what it is but her heart jumps when she sees it, something in her warming when her hands cup the delicate charm. It’s a bit old, but clearly made with love. There are soft golden-brown feathers tied by black leather into a wooden frame, with colorful string woven into it. The white flowers surprise her, as they’re not dead yet, but Ciri knows of magic and she knows what her grandmother thinks of it. The magic here, the warmth, just calls to her, makes her sadness disappear for a while.

Ciri closes her eyes, trying to stop the tears as she caresses the soft feathers. That night, she sleeps in her bed, curled with the charm clutched in her hands.

Her grandmother doesn't visit her in her rooms often, so Ciri ties the charm above her bed, where she can gaze at it while she falls asleep.

There are no more nightmares after that.

She still dreams of blue eyes and white hair, but now she can also hear laughter and grunts. There are two different people, males, in her dreams. Ciri knows of what magic can do, knows of curses, but this feels too good and pure to be a curse. At every birthday, at midnight, the charm glows with blue light. 

The first time, Ciri was scared and she almost ran to her grandmother, but by her 10th birthday, she revels in it. It feels as if whoever made the charm is celebrating with her. Every year, after the big celebration during which Ciri feels like a prized treasure being presented, she escapes to her room and smiles when the charm starts to glow. She falls asleep smiling, knowing she’s not alone.

Ciri may be young but she knows a few things about life. Not as much as the children she meets on the streets whenever she sneaks out. No, they know starvation and are often bruised and Ciri learns at a young age that she’s very lucky to be born into a royal family. She never starves, she’s treated well, no one dares to even raise their voice at her. She has all the things some other children don’t even dare to dream about and Ciri never stops being thankful. This is what keeps her from becoming like the lords’ children - spoiled and arrogant and boring. Ciri has friends who know poverty and pain and she takes pride in that even if it means her grandmother is angry.

She knows that something happened at her parent’s wedding. She knows that there was a bard the Queen hates talking about and someone else no one ever dares to mention. She doesn’t know their names, but she knows more than before.

Ciri is sure that they’re the ones who left the charm for her. She knows that one has blue eyes and the other white hair. 

She knows that there will be war. 

Ciri sneaks out often enough to listen to travelling merchants and castle guards who talk about an army coming. She doesn’t understand what it means, not really, as she never knew war but she’s educated and she knows how wars end. She knows that no matter who wins, there’s only burnt ground and lost lives left.

Her grandmother seems the same as always, and Ciri is worried. She learned about wars, she knows that there must be something the queen could do but she doesn’t dare to speak against her grandmother. Not when she’s so stressed already.

She doesn’t remember much of what happens when the enemy army arrives.

There are snippets, blood and fire and smoke, and the dead bodies of her only family left. There’s the charm hidden in her cloak, not glowing for once but warm, keeping Ciri going. She escapes and it’s hard, and what follows is even harder but now she knows. 

Geralt of Rivia. 

Her guardian. The one with white hair. Who travels with a bard named Jaskier like the white flowers in her charm. Those are the men she needs to find. They’re the ones who will protect and care for her, even as the world falls apart around them.

Ciri may be young but she’s the Lion Cub of Cintra and she has her grandmother’s stubbornness and her mother’s power. She will find her guardians, no matter what.

The weeks blur together and she’s not sure where she is exactly but something is tugging at her, more and more. 

“Oh,” she breaths one morning, waking up from the dream. Then, she runs.

The forest is wild and it’s easy to get lost but then she hears it - two sets of footsteps and that warm energy. Her charm starts to glow.

“Ciri!” someone calls, and she runs again.

They’re here, waiting for her. Geralt dressed all in black and Jaskier all in blue. She crashes into them and cries, surrounded by her guardians. Gentle hand cars through her dirty hair, another one rubbing her shoulder.

“Hello, little sparrow,” a warm voice says gently, as familiar as it is new. “You’re safe now.”

“Safer,” another voice grunts.

“Geralt! Don’t listen to him, darling, he has no idea how social interactions work, even though I spent the last two decades trying to teach him.”

Ciri giggles in spite of himself and lets the gentle hands push her away to look into their faces. She smiles when familiar blue eyes meet her.

“I dreamed about you,” she says softly. “Both of you.”

They both smile and Jaskier’s eyes crinkle in the corners in that familiar way. “We’ve met before,” he confirms. “Just after you were born.”

“You were...small,” Geralt adds awkwardly. Jaskier elbows him in the side but Ciri laughs through the tears. It’s not hard to see that Geralt really isn’t well versed in the whole ‘talking to others’ thing.

“I’m Jaskier, and this is Geralt, but you probably know that. It’s an honor to finally meet you again.”

Ciri smiles and leaves the questions for later. There’s always time, now that they’re together.

Later that day they’re setting a camp together. Well, Ciri is settled near the horses while Jaskier and Geral work together to set everything up. Her eyes are trained on her guardians, drinking up in finally seeing them in real life, finally knowing them.

They work together seamlessly. She can definitely see that they’ve known each other for 2 decades, in the way they move around each other, don’t discuss anything, just do their tasks. Jaskier keeps a steady stream of comments the whole time and Ciri relaxes into it, letting the words wash over her. Geralt stays mostly quiet, attentive even as he tries to pretend he’s not listening. They clearly care about each other, they must, to spend 20 years together. They remind Ciri about her grandmother and Eist, but she forcefully removes that thought from her mind. She’s not ready to face that yet. 

“All set, princess,” Jaskier announces at last, smiling softly at her, he beckons her closer and Ciri darts through the campsite to settle at his side, under his arm. It’s a warm night but she missed closeness like that, missed having someone caring for her. “It’s going to get a bit easier now, little sparrow.”

“Is it?” she asks bitterly. If there’s anything she learned those last few weeks is that life is almost never easy.

“Yes.” 

It’s Geralt who answers, settling close to them. His eyes are serious and he looks intimidating but she feels safe with him. There’s softness in his gold eyes when he looks at Ciri and Jaskier.

“Not easy, but easier.”

It’s as much as they can promise her and Ciri appreciates not being lied to. She’s had enough of that her whole life.

“Why did you never come to see me?” she asks finally, deciding it’s time for hard questions.

Jaskier and Geralt share a look, before the bard sighs and smiles sadly at her.

“We went against many people, Ciri, but even we know that it’s not wise to go against a Queen’s word,” he says very gently. It takes Ciri a second to understand and then she’s not even surprised. Her grandmother was a stubborn woman. 

Once again, she forcefully pushes the memories away. She doesn’t want to cry now.

“She forbid you,” Ciri concludes.

“She always hated Destiny,” Geralt confirms.

Jaskier snorts and smiles at the Witcher. “We understand that very well, don’t we, Geralt?”

The other man just grunts with a small smirk. Now Ciri is almost sure that there’s something between those two men.

“Still, Destiny has a way of pushing things to happen even against the wishes of us, mere mortals. We were fated to meet and so we did. I am only so very sorry that it had to happen like that. I grieve with you, little sparrow.”

Ciri looks at him for a second, before burying her head against Jaskier’s chest and letting tears fall. She feels Geralt moving closer to lay an awkward hand on her shoulder but it’s enough to make her relax into the toch.

“Cry, fledgling, we’re here for you,” Jaskier whispers, letting her bury even deeper into his doublet.

She falls asleep like that, exhausted from her journey and the emotions, but feeling safer than she felt for weeks.

She wakes up alone and for a second, her entire body freezes with fear but then she hears the whispers and chuckling. She lays there for a little bit longer, calming her heart down.

“Back to Kaer Morhen?” Jaskier asks quietly.

“Hmm,” Geralt grunts. “It’s what’s safest for her.”

Silence falls for a second. “Ready to get up, little sparrow?” Jaskier asks suddenly, chuckling when it makes her jump. “We have quite a lot of ground to cover, and it’s best to set off now.”

Ciri nods and gets up, looking around. The campsite is all packed up, only one bedroll left and some food for her. Jaskier and Geralt are both dressed, sitting on the other side of the dead fire, Jaskier’s lute in his lap.

She’s given food that’s better than what she ate on the run, some water and a black cloak. She looks at them surprised.

“You look unique,” Geralt explains. “We don’t need more attention.”

Ciri’s sad that she has to part with her blue cloak, one of the two things she has left of her life in Cintra, but she understands. Very carefully, she pulls the charm out and lays it on the ground.

Jaskier’s gasp makes her look up and it’s surprise and affection written on his face.

“You have it,” the bard whispers, awed.

“You made it for me?” she asks, jumping closer to him, the charm back in her hand.

“I did,” Jaskier confirms with a small smile, one finger carefully brushing against the charm. It sparkles but for a second and the flowers bloom even more, if possible. “It’s called nightchaser and it’s supposed to ward off bad dreams and ensure that you rest properly.”

Ciri looks at the charm, the nightchaser, warmly. “It did its job,” she assures. “It’s what made me see you in my dreams. Your eyes and hair.”

Jaskier laughs wetly, leaning against Geralt who stood to lay a hand on the bard’s shoulder.

“I’m glad,” Jaskier whispers. “I was sure they wouldn’t give it to you after everything.”

“I found it on my own,” Ciri says proudly, tinted with a bit of sadness. That memory is both happy and sad, but she likes it. “After my parents…”

The bard lays a hand on her shoulder and squeezes, smiling gently. His eyes are understanding, putting her at ease.

“I went to their room when I couldn’t sleep and I found it in the cabinet. It always glows on my birthday.”

That makes Jaskier chuckle. “I didn’t know it did that, but maybe because we weren’t there it found a way to let you know that you aren’t alone.”

Ciri likes that thought. Then, another question hits her.

“Are you a sorcerer?” she asks the bard. No one ever mentioned that the White Wolf travelled with a magical bard, and no songs mentioned it.

“No, but I’m not human either,” Jaskier answers, before pulling her closer and leading her towards a white horse. “But I can tell you all about that while we travel.”

Neither of them gets on the other horse, Roach, and they walk towards the road. She knows they’re travelling to Kaer Morhen but that name gives her nothing. She doesn't know that much about the more magical world.

“Now, coming back to the conversation about magic,” Jaskier starts again. “I’m not a human but not a mage either. Or an elf, before you ask. I’m a Fae, which not many people know about.”

Ciri perks up, interested. Once, Mousesack gave her a small book about all kinds of non-human beings, when her grandmother wasn’t looking. There wasn’t much information there and she supposes that most of it was incorrect but…

“Do you have wings?” she asks excitedly.

“Yes,” Jaskier confirms, making her smile widen. “If we find a campsite far away from any civilisation, I will show you,” he promises.

Geralt doesn’t say much as they walk, but Jaskier more than makes up for it, dragging Ciri into a conversation until she finds herself smiling and laughing at his jokes. She even requests a few songs and he performs them as if she’s his most important audience. Geralt looks unimpressed but there’s a small smile on his face, and his shoulders are relaxed.

Every new piece of this mystery makes Ciri even more interested. They don’t seem like well-matched travel companions but they work together extremely well. Geralt pretends to be annoyed and Jaskier pretends to be outraged but they’re relaxed and it seems more of a running joke than serious irritation.

They stop when the sun starts to set and she knows it’s mostly for her benefit but she’s tired and they don’t seem angry.

“When Jaskier was pretending to be human,” Geralt speaks up unexpectedly, “he would whine and complain until we stopped, sometimes a few hours before sunset. He wasn’t really that tired, but he likes to pretend like that.”

It makes Ciri giggle and Jaskier sends them an outraged look but they settle in the campsite. Geralt goes to hunt them dinner and Jaskier starts going through their bags, organizing everything.

“When we get to a village, we’ll buy you some clothes and necessities,” he informs her. “We’ll need to stock on supplies as well, as it’ll be unwise to stop too often around other people.”

“I’m sorry I'm a bother,” she says quietly, picking at her cloak.

Jaskier sighs and lays a hand on hers, stopping the nervous movement. “Darling,” he sighs again. “Trust me when I say that you are far from a bother. We waited to meet you for 13 years, and yes, the circumstances could be better, but we’re still beyond happy to see you. Geralt too, he’s just not the best at talking about things, you’ll get used to it.”

She smiles. “He’s quiet.”

“He is,” Jaskier chuckles. “But he speaks with actions and you’ll learn his language, I promise. As for the lack of people, which i’m sure bothers you, it’s not a big change for us, little sparrow. We camp often because I like to get my wings out and drop the glamour and it’s not the best idea amongst people. We aren’t going out of our way just for you, I promise.”

It’s enough to settle some worries and she smiles gratefully. Jaskier sings for her until Geralt comes and then teaches her how to skin and prepare rabbits. Ciri listens closely. If they’re to be camping a lot, she needs to know how to help and survive. She doesn’t want to drag them down.

Geralt gets out his swords and starts to polish them as their food roasts, so Ciri leans against Jaskier and listens to his stories about them, about the Fae and how they came to be their guardians.

“Geralt doesn’t speak often and thank Melitele for that, because once he does, strange things happen,” Jaskier cautions, making Geralt snort.

“As if you’re better,” he mutters. “Half of the problems we found ourselves in happened because Jaskier can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“I’m a bard, darling, it’s what I do!” Jaskier calls with a laugh. “You’d be bored without me.”

Geralt just gazes at the bard with almost painfully soift eyes and oh, she finally gets it.

Ciri smiles when the puzzle pieces fall in place. They’re together, they’re in love. The ease with which they move around each other, the soft looks and gentle words. It’s painfully cute and makes them so much more interesting.

“Back on track, little sparrow,” Jaskier interrupts her musings. “We were there during the infamous betrothal banquet, and well, things happened and Geralt called the Law of Surprise. We didn’t know what he would get, and then it turned out that your mother was pregnant with you, and so you became ours in the same way you’re theirs.”

A wave of sadness hits Ciri when he speaks of her parents but it’s muted now. Years have passed and she’s at peace with her parents’ passing. It is very interesting though, as no one told her the story before.

“If Geralt called the Law of Surprise, how come I dreamt about both of you?”

Jaskier chuckles, again looking at Geralt with those soft, loving eyes. “Apparently, Destiny deems marriage important enough to share the effects of the Law of Surprise,” he explains. “And so I also felt the tug of it, also felt like I was meant to meet and care for you.”

“Oh,” she whispers.

They’re married. It seems so obvious but Ciri never expected it. The tales of the White Wolf and his bard are known all over the Continent, Jaskier is probably the most famous bard of them all, but no one even whispered about the fact they may be married. And properly married too. With a true bond, not just a marriage of convenience. Mousesack told her a bit about how magic works, and Ciri knows that the bond must be deep for something like this to happen.

Even though she knows, they’re not overly obvious about their affections. They walk close to each other during their travels and whenever Ciri walks during the nights she sees them cuddled together, but they still snip and banter, insult each other playfully. Their love is true but their friendship shines through it all.

It’s a few weeks later that Ciri finally gets a chance to see Jaskier’s true form. They’re in the middle of a forest, at least 3 days away from any village when Geralt deems it safe enough for Jaskier to drop the glamour.

Ciri watches excitedly as a blue shimmer falls down Jaskier’s form and two huge, feathered wings emerge. She gasps at their beauty, jumping to her feet.

The Fae spreads them invitingly, smiling at her. “Go on! They’re not as fragile as they look, I promise.”

They don’t look fragile at all. They look powerful and sleek and absolutely stunning, brown and gold. Ciri gasps again when she touches one and sees the down feathers.

“They’re your own feathers!” she exclaims, flooded with affection .”The feathers on the nightchaser, they’re yours.”

Jaskier nods with a wide smile. “It’s how it’s made. Parents make them with their feathers, little trinkets and flowers that are important and pretty. It hangs over their hatchling as they grow up and even adults keep their nightchaser somewhere, until they die. During the traditional burial, which is just burning the body and spreading the ashes in the air, the nightchaser is burned with the Fae. It’s important.”

Ciri blushes when he says the word “parents” and looks at her hands. “You see me as your daughter?” she asks quietly. She hadn’t been anyone’s daughter since her parents died. She has memories of them, but it’s not the same.

“Of course,” Geralt answers, surprising her. He still looks uncomfortable speaking but one look from Jaskier is enough to make him keep going. “Since the moment we saw you, you were ours. We may not be your birth parents but we. we care for you.”

She looks at the Witcher for a second, before throwing herself at him. Geralt catches her with ease. He’s a bit clumsy but soon relaxes into the hug and gathers her even closer, letting Ciri bury her face in his shoulder. He smells a bit like Jaskier and a bit like horse. It’s comforting.

Jaskier joins them and envelops them in his wings, soft and warm and Ciri smiles into Geralt’s shoulder, feeling loved and wanted. She really isn’t alone anymore.


End file.
